Friday night student party. Gran stays over on a visit.

Friday March 21^st.

Laura’s friends’ party was a revelation.

I haven’t been to a loud, spilling out into the street, student party since I was an undergraduate (I graduated in 2009). It brought back good and bad memories combined. I had voted myself the designated driver as the party was up in Broomhill and we live miles away, although in the end that wouldn’t have mattered as you’ll see, as I was Laura’s guest she could have the drinks and I would stay sober.

We dressed in standard party fare, I had a skimpy lace dress which was just about decent but under which I had put on a nude coloured singlet so it looked like I may be naked but wasn’t, Laura had one of those dresses which barely covers her modesty and if she bend over you can see all the way to Saturn (or is it another planet?).

We arrived fashionably early, at about 9.45 to find there was hardly anyone there. This was a protocol I had forgotten about since becoming an adult, arriving at parties after the pubs chuck out. The trickle started well before 11 though and by that hour there was a sizeable crowd of revellers.

The hosts had managed wangle the trick of pulling one of their tutors to come along and we sort of gravitated towards each other as we both seemed a bit older than the toddlers around us. He asked what I did, so I explained about being a PhD student doing research in Mediaeval History. This sort of surprised him as he had assumed I would be a maths geek like most of the rest. When he asked about how I had got myself invited I pointed out Laura (involved in an animated discussion in the conservatory) and he went, “Oh Miss Thomas…”

I explained she was a friend of mine and was the daughter of my father’s cleaner. [I didn’t see the need to give him any more information than that.] He found this rather odd and asked if my father was wealthy or famous because he had a cleaner. I was so tempted to pretend he was a peer of the realm and that technically I was the Right Honourable Lady Victoria (although I didn’t flaunt my title) but I have been bitten on the bum by doing this before so I came out with the straight, honest answer about him being a Senior Lecturer in Comparative Literature, and an Australian as well.

He asked, “Which Uni?” so I answered that too and it turns out he knew some people in the Maths department there too, but I told him Dad probably didn’t move in the same circles as Maths was all Greek to him.

He did venture to tell me that Laura was showing great promise and he had already told her he thought a Masters in her field would be a shoo-in. This was news to me. It was round about now that the aforementioned Maths Geek came over to me, put her arms round my neck and gave me a huge smackeroo. She asked if I wanted anything as she was getting a refill but I still had over half my j2o in the glass so I declined. She wandered off towards the utility room where the bar was set up to refill her wine glass.

It was as though this guy wasn’t even there. He had witnessed our brief exchange of bodily fluids via the mouth and said, “So, you are “Friends” then?”

I explained that we lived together and had been a couple for almost 20 months. He seemed to lose interest after that and eventually wandered off.

Laura came back and asked if I had frightened off Mr Hewitt, I explained that our kiss had done it, at which she giggled. She then told me she thought he was a stuffed shirt and would make a prime candidate for the Conservative Party in later life. She dragged me back with her into the conservatory where the conversation seemed to be focused around how nobody seemed to play bridge any more. Laura piped up with, “We do.” 

Arggghhh! I could guess what was going to come next. Someone was bound to ask, “Let’s have a rubber or two!” Before I could mumble my excuses Laura had agreed and someone produced a real, square, baize topped card table from out of the blue. Four dining chairs were procured from somewhere else and we began.

I hadn’t come to a student party to end up playing bridge but here I was with Laura as East to my West. She was a bit tipsy but otherwise I think she still had her maths head on. My first hand had thirty two points. I doubled an opening two hearts and Laura came back with four no trumps and we won with a grand slam (unbid).

I could tell the other two were a bit unimpressed by this so we decided not to be silly about it, just keep our head down and play up as normal. We won every contract we bid and broke every one the other two tried to play. In the end we had a crowd of people gathering round to watch us play. I haven’t played with Laura for ages (usually it is against Dad and Errol at Dad’s house) but we were really on song. In the end we started to explain what we were doing to those that were interested in learning the game and it turned out the two who had challenged us were barely novices too.

When I looked at the clock we had been sitting playing and then explaining how to play for about two hours. I left the card school and Laura playing away and went to find the loo. There was queue, so I sat on the step by the door next to the other person waiting, a black girl with a bright patterned T-shirt. It was really lovely with swirls and patterns and circles like the child’s toy I had back at home used to make. I told her this and she told me the name of the firm who made it. Sadly I have forgotten that information.

We introduced ourselves and Jenny said, “Are you gay?” I almost choked on the remains of my j2o. She went on, “It’s just that I saw you kissing that skinny blonde girl earlier. I am bi-myself. If you want you can come in with me, when this jerk comes out of here, and we can get to know each other better.”

I was complete politeness and calm. I simply said, “That skinny blonde is my partner. We live together. I don’t cheat on her. I love her.”

She shrugged her shoulders and said, “Ah well, it was worth a try. If you change your mind here’s my e-mail and phone number.” She handed me a business card with a lipstick kiss on it Jenny’s details printed on the reverse. To be polite I put it in my handbag.

The jerk came out a few moments later and I let Jenny use the ablution alone. He plonked himself down on the step where she had been sitting and tried to persuade me what a nice guy he was and how I was just the girl he had been searching for all of his life. His breath was so heavy with beer fumes I thought I would get drunk myself just breathing in his vicinity.

He told me I was that girl playing cards in the conservatory a while ago and winning everything. I told him he obviously he didn’t need Specsavers. He was too far gone for wit and banter because he then told me he thought he must do because he could see my dress was see-through but he couldn’t see my tits. I think he was too far gone to understand about nude coloured singlets and not worth the bother anyway.

Jenny came out of the loo at that moment so I headed inside to escape the foul breath and dim wits. Luckily he had wandered off when I departed (leaving Jenny’s card on the cistern) and I strolled back down the stairs to find Laura. She was in the lounge armed with a really long glass filled with what I hoped was a soft drink because if it was red wine she would really regret it in the morning. She said, “Here, some more j20,” handing me the glass. It was a colour and flavour I hadn’t tried before. “Can we think about going?”

I told her I was ready when she was, so I swigged back the j20 and we extricated ourselves from the environs of the house and wandered down the road to where I had parked the car. The noise was audible even from about 100 yards away. As most of the housing in the vicinity is student accommodation I suppose they have this every weekend. (I know we did during my time in Cambridge.)

We rolled up at home just as the clock struck three. Callie was waiting with a patient, if pained, look on her face so I took her for her final stroll of the day. We found four frogs and a newt, all of which were still alive so I moved them all. One of the frogs was huge and really heavy, he fitted right across the palm of my (gloved) had. I closed my fingers round him in case he decide to leap to freedom from a great height. I felt really pleased with myself when we got back home. I was brimming with excitement and longing to tell Laura of my rescue but she was pushing the zeds with alacrity. Unlike other times she didn’t say anything as I snuggled into bed alongside her. I kissed her temple and must have been asleep in minutes.

Saturday 22^nd March.

Woke quite early (7.30) after such a late night. Even the woofter hadn’t stirred from her crate in the kitchen to rouse me. Probably she was working on the same timings as I was. Laura was still pushing the zeds, although with a softer note than she had when she went to sleep. I leaned across and stroked her cheek with my fingers she woke up and grabbed my hand, she pulled it down between her legs and said, “Stroke there.” I didn’t need a second invitation and within a few minutes all the bed clothes were on the floor and we were giving each other pleasure.

All of our passion was interrupted by Mum calling! Great timing mother. Laura answered then handed me the phone but didn’t stop what she was doing to me. It is very difficult talking to your parent whilst having sex with your partner at the same time. I was certain she’d twig to what was happening but she didn’t seem to notice or else was being very discrete. I had enough time to say, “Excuse me a minute!” as I pressed the mute button and had the longest orgasm in the universe.

When I reconnected I told her the postie had brought a parcel which needed signing for! She was phoning to ask if it was still OK for Gran to come over. I said that it was and we’d be there at 10.30. 

After I had hung up I promised that the next time Laura called her Mum (or vice versa) I was going to do the same to her. She said that she’d call her Mum straight away then! LOL.

We drove over to Mum’s almost immediately, I walked Callie up the lane and then Laura drove along to pick us both up. Gran had a small suitcase packed even though she was only staying the night and we bundled her into the car, not literally, and headed for Higger Tor. I had arranged this walk with her and Mum earlier on as it was quite flat and had great views over the Derbyshire Dales. Gran hasn’t walked anywhere in the Sheffield area and I thought this would be pretty easy for her and, hopefully, quite interesting.

We walked across to the old hill fort first and then sort of doubled back to hit Stanage Pole next before returning to the car. I had assumed that it would take us about an hour and a half, I had forgotten Gran’s aged and relative frailty and we ended up taking over two and a half hours. This meant a swift change of plans for lunch and we headed to Fox House rather than my planned destination of the Yorkshire Bridge in Bamford. It was a good call as we only just made the cut off point for lunches at the Fox, we would have been far too late at the bridge.

She may be small and frail but she certainly packs away the food. She had cleared her plate before I had and was already deciding which dessert to have as Laura and I laid down our gobbling rods. She was going to have the fish as her main but I had to spoil our dinner surprise by telling her she was having fish for tea, in the end we all had their home made meat and potato pie with Henderson’s Relish, of course.  Gran had never heard of it, which being a South Yorkshire delicacy is hardly surprising. She really liked it though so I told her she could take a bottle of mine back to Scotland with her when she went.

We had different desserts, Gran having apple crumble, Laura had hot chocolate fudge cake and I had lemon meringue pie. I had made one for tea but I just can’t resist if it is on a restaurant menu. I am pleased to say the Fox’s one was very good; not quite as lemony as mine but the meringue was lovely and crusty but soft  inside.

We hit chez nous at about 4pm and Gran wanted the TV on so she could catch the football results and see how Hibernian had done. She and Granda were staunch enemies across a footba field, Granda being a Hearts fan and Gran supporting the other Edinburgh club, Hibs. She once said she nearly hadn’t married him when she discovered his footba team! I think she may actually have been serious too.

The Green side had gone down 2-0 with one of their men sent off in the first half, so the Perth lot strolled it. She was really annoyed but delighted that Hearts had lost on Friday night which sort of took the edge of her team losing. I cannot see what the logic behind that thinking is!

Our evening meal was salmon en croute which was cooking nicely by itself as we’d arrived home.

After our meal, fortified with a glass or two of very nice Sicilian white wine I had found somewhere we decamped to the lounge where Gran was happy not to have the TV on. This was a major relief I thought she might be going to want to watch Match of the Day or something equally as awful.

We ended up gossiping about all sorts of things way into the evening. Including her Childhood during the Second World War, that even managed to touch as far north as the Scottish Borders, and how she met Granda. It was fascinating to hear her perspective on things and to see how little (politically) she and Mum have in common. I was tempted to ask her why Mum had moved into the land of the Sassenachs but decided that may be a question too far.

What did surprise me was she asked what the green light was on the box under the TV, when it turned from red to green. I explained it was recording BBC4’s new Italian detective film; Inspector De Luca. She asked if she could watch it with us. It seems she is a huge fan of Montalbano and was hoping to see if this new offering from the Beeb was any good. That is what we did. Afterwards she was quite tired so she retired to her room after a nightcap of hot drinking chocolate.

I declined the chocolate and took Callie for her end of day walk. When I got back Laura and I had a chat about my Gran and I was pleased that Laura found her as interesting and feisty as I did. Luckily she hasn’t yet witnessed her stubbornness of her temper, which may cause her to revise her opinion a little. I didn’t mention those.

Sunday March 23^rd.

I was up with the larks as usual and was surprised to find Gran in the kitchen already sat at the kitchen table with a cuppa, reading yesterday’s “i” newspaper. She told me she thought it was very good and she might start getting it herself, she was critical of me having “the Times”too, though and chastised me for giving any money to Murdoch. I explained it was for the crossword that we bought it. I showed her the completed Saturday Jumbo crossword.

“How long did it take you to complete this?” she asked. I was able to say that yesterday’s took me about 45 minutes, which is quite good for their jumbo cryptic. I think she was impressed. She certainly gave me a searching appraising look before I scooted off with the woofie who had been surprised by Gran’s appearance downstairs before me (and probably because Gran hadn’t let her out, as I usually do before putting my footwear on for her walk).

I gave her the newt count when we got back. [Zero] I had to then go into a lengthy explanation of what my newt rescue service was and how we tried our best to prevent newtmageddon on the top road.

“You never cease to surprise me, Victoria!” Was her considered response to that!

I asked her if she fancied a trip out to a local(ish) garden centre this morning as I was looking to buy a couple of plants to fill spaces in the raised beds which had died over the winter. Lavender plants, actually. The dead ones had left gaps which made the two side raised beds take on the appearance of a boxer’s mouth, with all the gaps where his teeth should be.

It was decided we would go lavender buying this morning and also have a look at Wentworth Woodhouse house as well. I didn’t think it was open for tours today but the exterior is stunning and if it was open, their mini tour is worth a look. The full house tour promises to be magnificent but I don’t think they have started doing them yet and Gran may have baulked at the price being, £25 each!

Laura and I prepped the veggies in double quick time and put the lamb joint in to cook while we were out. With Callie getting a bit excited about a second weekend jaunt we drove over Jawbone Hill, stopping at the top to let Gran have a look at the view south over Sheffield. She recognised the water towers right on the southern horizon as being where she and Mum caught the tram into town when they went to Meadowhall. I think she was surprised at just how big an area the city actually covers and how hilly it is.

Callie had to remain in the car at the Wentworth garden centre, but we weren’t there all that long (OK maybe an hour and a half!) but then she loved racing about the parkland at Wentworth Woodhouse. We strolled along all 600+ feet of the house front, which is unbelievably spectacular; we explore the grounds and then took Gran to walk through the ‘needle’. There has been much speculation about the needle’s purpose. The locals all say it was about a wager Lord Rockingham had made about driving a carriage through the eye of a needle however, as a historian, I have to point out there is no evidence at all to support this claim despite extensive research undertaken to prove its veracity. I think the only thing we can say for certain is it was built in the 18^th century and its true purpose remains unknown.

Back home the lamb was cooked to perfection for us which meant Gran wanted only the edge bits as she isn’t keen on pink meat. (No, that’s not a euphemism!) We had far too much of everything, which is often what we do, so we plated up a meal each for Laura and I for Monday, too.

Mum arrived at about four thirty in time for a high tea and more gossip. Dad has invited her to go and stay at the caravan on Arran if she wants, which almost made me fall off my chair! She has told him that the drive all the way from Sheffield to Ardrossan is not one she would particularly relish but she will bear his offer in mind. I think he must have done so because I had told him I was planning to ask Mum to come for a week with us at Easter Break. She did say she’d love to come with us but had put Dad off for political reasons.

Gran went back to Holmesfield with Mum after tea and she’s staying with her until next weekend at least so she can go and visit the new great grandchild again. I did think she might mention me and motherhood during her stay but fortunately she didn’t. Maybe she is learning tact as she grows older? It is a pity Phil and Jane haven’t got their finger out for the Christening but they can be very dilatory about stuff. It will just mean Gran has to make the journey down from Hawick again in the near future for that too.

Laura and I have decided that my Gran is one of the good people, I wonder what she says about us to her cronies back in Scotland?

A relatively early night tonight as we both felt a bit drained by playing the ideal hosts to our visitor. A footnote to this entry, Mum sent a text (quite a rarity in itself, TBH) saying Gran had thoroughly enjoyed her stay with us and thought I made an excellent hausfrau. Is that a compliment or an insult?